Temporal Distortion
by Simple Paradox
Summary: John and Sherlock talk about space. Johnlock if you think about it.


"John, I really need to get back to the flat and work on this case, not frolic around a park," Sherlock scowled, a coffee in one hand and a case file in another. They had just come from Scotland Yard where Lestrade had given them a case that made Sherlock's eyes brighten and give him that weird smile that he always got when he heard the words 'nearly impossible'.

John, on the other hand, had a different idea of what they were going to be doing tonight. Well, at least for a few minutes.

"The case can wait," John said and took a seat on a nearby bench and motioned for Sherlock to come and sit next to him. His flat mate rolled his eyes and reluctantly sat down next to him.

"John, this is a waste of ti-," Sherlock started but John shushed him, which surprisingly made him stop talking for once.

"Just be quiet for a little bit," John said, but not in a harsh way.

John allowed himself to lean back on the bench and just stare up at the sky, happy to have some peace for once. He looked up at the stars that littered the sky, seemingly shinning brighter that night.

After a few minutes Sherlock spoke again. "What are we doing here, John?" he asked.

John raised an eyebrow at him. "You can't deduce that for yourself?"

"Too busy deducing the case at this moment," Sherlock said and John just noticed that the case file was open on Sherlock's lap. He frowned, closed the file, and shoved it under the bench. Sherlock nearly hit him.

"I just think we need a few minutes of rest, okay? Just a little breather. And you haven't slept in, what, three days?" John explained, narrowing his eyes on him.

Sherlock was silent for a few moments before saying, "Fine. Just for a few minutes though."

John smiled contently then went back to staring at the sky. "It's amazing how small we are compared to everything out there, isn't it?"

"Yes, amazing," Sherlock said sarcastically, obviously annoyed that he couldn't work on his case.

"Listen, I know you don't care much for space but could you at least pretend that you cared?" John said, not moving his eyes for the clear night sky.

Sherlock huffed. John took that as a yes.

"Our problems just seem so small compared to the lot of it all. It's insane how there are millions of other galaxies out there that could hold who knows what and people here are worried about ten percent sales on clothes and which celebrity just got married," John said, continuing his little talk.

"You're starting to sound like me," Sherlock said and John nearly jumped at the words. No one ever sounded like Sherlock and John wasn't sure if he wanted to. He seemed to notice the look John gave him because he said, "Seeing past normality."

John shrugged and started rubbing his hands together. It was getting colder and colder with every second. But he didn't move, he just continued to stare at the sky. "I quite like Mars," he said, changing the subject a little bit.

"Because it reminds you of Afghanistan," Sherlock said and it wasn't exactly a question. It was more of him declaring a fact.

"No, because I like how something so dry and so unpleasant looking can still have life that's just buried beneath the surface," John said and rubbed his hands some more.

"Hold my coffee," Sherlock said and held his coffee out towards John.

"Sherlock, I'm not a servant."

"No, your hands are cold," he said and pushed the cup into John's hands. John smiled a little, surprised by Sherlock's kind gesture. He wrapped his hands around the cup and sighed contently as warmth started to surge through him.

"Thanks," he said. Sherlock didn't respond. "What's your favorite planet?" he decided to ask.

"This one," Sherlock said.

"Why's that?" John asked.

"Because it's the only one we should be concerned with. People keep worrying about trying to find ways to get to other planets when they really should be worrying about the one there actually on," Sherlock said, relaxing for the first time since they sat down. "And I bet Mars doesn't have tea." He added with a slight grin, making them both laugh.

It grew quiet again with only the faint buzz of insects in the distance. John liked this moment. He liked it a lot. It was so peaceful, having a normal conversation with his flat mate as the stars hung over them. He had no idea if Sherlock was enjoying this as much as he was but he sure hoped that he did. John would love to come to the park every night and talk about the stars with Sherlock.

"You've been watching the Doctor Who box set I got you for Christmas, haven't you?" Sherlock looked over at John was a smug look on his face. John just smiled and shook his head.

"I bet you can't guess my favorite Doctor," John said, taking a sip of his flat mate's coffee.

"You liked David Tennant but Matt Smith is growing on you."

"Damn," John laughed a little then said in all seriousness, "If you could leave this planet, would you?"

Sherlock was silent for a few moments before saying, "Not without you."

And that was it. Three simple words that made that night go from good to great. Three words that would make John remember that moment forever.

"Okay, let's go home so you can look at that case," John said, standing up, figuring that it was best to leave now before something ruined the great night he was having.

Sherlock stood up as well and said, "No need. I already figured it out. It was a suicide meant to look like a murder."

"How'd you figure that one out?" John asked as they started their walk back home.

"Obvious. The women stabbed herself, only leaving the knife as evidence. She probably didn't want people to think she took her own life," Sherlock explained. "People tend to do that; care about what others think."

"Yeah, they do," John said and took one last look at the sky. All of space could never compare to a life with Sherlock. Never.


End file.
